


Are You Lonesome Tonight?

by flying_snowmen



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Mild Language
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-24
Updated: 2014-12-24
Packaged: 2018-03-03 05:13:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,614
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2839316
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flying_snowmen/pseuds/flying_snowmen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><a href="http://flying-toes.tumblr.com/post/91925983320/just-another-really-long-aus-i-really-want-post">prompt</a>: we work at the same 50's diner au</p>
<p>Or, Clarke is a waitress at Jaha's and Bellamy sings for the band.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Are You Lonesome Tonight?

 

"You’re late.” Jaha sighs, disappointed, from behind the register as Clarke rushes into the diner at exactly 12:17 for her noon shift.  “ _Again_.”

“I’m sorry, Thelonious.” She mumbles as she ties her saddle shoes and smooths out her skirt before pulling her hair into a loose ponytail. “The professor kept us all in late again. You can ask Wells.”

“What am I going to do with you?” He shakes his head and looks at the floor, but Clarke knows by the crinkle of his eyes and the smile he’s hiding that he isn't actually mad.

“We’ll just have to wait and see.” She kisses him briefly on the cheek because this man was there for her after her father died. This man gave her a job when she dropped out of medical school so that she could pursue art. This man...has done so much for her.

“Kissing up to the boss won’t get you a pay raise, Miss America.” In saunters the bane of her existence: Bellamy Blake, with his greased back hair, black jeans, and leather jacket. Doesn't he know he’s not actually a greaser?

“Neither will showing up late, Mr. Blake.” Jaha gives him a stern _I’m disappointed in you_ look. Clarke smiles and turns to Bellamy so that she can stick her tongue out at him pointedly. He smirks, unamused.

“That will be all, Clarke.” Jaha shakes his head, before motioning for Bellamy to follow him into his office in the back. Clarke dances over to her place behind the register, resting her elbow atop the counter while she shakes her hip to Chuck Berry and scans the diner. Kane sits at the counter, staring into his usual cup of black coffee. His mother used to love coming here, so he’s kept up the tradition since she passed last May. In one of the booths, Wick smiles at Raven while she leans over the table, fixing one of his designs. Wick’s been coming by on the regular ever since the up and coming mechanic got a job here two months ago.

The bell above the door jingles, and Clarke grins at the boy who walks in. “Monty! When did you get back?” She glances at Jaha’s office before running around the counter to hug the boy. “I thought you wouldn't be back for another two weeks.”

“The conference ended early when a certain someone thought that one of my research partners was getting a little too friendly.” Monty shrugs with a laugh. “Miller is a handful, but I love him.”

“But your presentation went well? I know you've been working on it for nearly two years.” Clarke went to college with the two boys, and Monty is currently getting his Master’s Degree in environmental engineering. He had gone to New York to present his research with his professor at another convention. Everyone wanted to learn more about Monty’s plans for a mass water-filtering system to implement in India.

“It went well, and I think there are real chances of success.” The boy smiles brightly. “But what about your degree? Will I need to go to any posh art auctions in the near future?”

“Not yet, but give me time.” She laughs, walking back around the counter when she hears Bellamy grunt as he opens the door to Jaha’s office. He doesn’t look all that happy, but then again, he rarely does. “Danny Zuko didn’t call?”

“Can it, Princess.” Bellamy spits gruffly, storming past her into the employee lounge until there are tables to bus. He’s always like this in the afternoon. His day starts at seven o’clock when he gets to perform on the stage with the makeshift band the diner hires every weekend.

“He still have a stick up his ass?” Monty smiles sweetly as he slides into one of the bar chairs.

“Yeah, and the sun came up this morning too.” Clarke smirks, grabbing two menus when a couple walks into the diner. “Welcome to Jaha’s! Just two?”

* * *

 Clarke gasps when she bursts through the back kitchen door into the alley, wrapping her arms tightly around herself. After nearly seven hours of dealing with bratty children, excessively picky patrons, and seniors citizens who insist that they ordered a pot roast, not a chicken salad sandwich, Clarke just needs to take a break from the diner she loves. _She does love it._

“You look like you need a smoke.” Clarke whips around and nearly laughs at the sight of Bellamy leaning against the wall, cigarette hanging out of his mouth, pack wrapped in the sleeve of his shirt, and gelled hair starting to fall onto his forehead.

“Please, I went to medical school. I know how dangerous those things are.” She huffs, turning around to face the cold air biting at her nose and ears. She lasts about ten seconds before she mumbles out a pained “ _fuck it_ ”. She stomps over to the grinning man and grabs the pack from his sleeve, pulling out a cigarette and stuffing it in her mouth, tapping her foot expectantly. He just leans back, smiling brightly. “Well, I don’t got all night.” She grumbles through the cigarette.

He reaches into his back pocket and produces an elegantly designed lighter that looks thirty years old. He leans toward her until they’re uncomfortably close, holding the lighter next to his lips and igniting it. “Got you covered.” He whispers, tilting it so that it lights her cigarette. She takes a step back quickly, breathing out a thank you of sorts.

“So, why are you out here? Your band is already getting ready.” She speaks after taking a few drags from the cancer stick between her lips. If her mother could see her now...if only.

“They won’t start without me.” Bellamy pulls the cigarette from his lips and flicks it to the side. Clarke gasps, walking over and squashing it with her foot. They live in a fucking _desert_! He should not be laughing at her precaution. “Always a goody two-shoes.”

“Am not.” She huffs, but the effect is weakened by the coughs that follow. She really shouldn't smoke. Especially in front of a man who will only laugh at her when she does.

He doesn't, though. Just shakes his head with a smile. “You really are something, I’ll give you that.”

“Please, like you’re not a handful yourself.” She mumbles out, crossing one of her arms across her chest as she tries to take another drag of her cigarette. She can’t give up with him just standing there.

“You should try taking care of a teenage sister. You don’t even know the definition of the word handful until you’ve met Octavia.” He chuckles, kicking the dirt lightly as he puts his hands on his hips. He has a _sister_?

“And I thought a renowned doctor as a mother was tough.” Clarke watches him peek up from beneath his hair and smile. She does not melt a little inside.

He sends a small smile her way before turning around and leaving, but not before calling out, “See you around, Prom Queen.” Once he’s gone, she squashes her own cigarette before promising to never smoke again. She tries to hide the smile bubbling under her lips.

* * *

 Bellamy Blake has been working at the diner for a year now, and every weekend, Friday to Sunday, seven to nine, he sings in a gangly imitation of a band. Monroe is halfway decent on the guitar, Bill is adequate on the piano, and don’t even get her started on Murphy’s drumming skills. Bellamy’s ok. Fine, he’s pretty damn good, but she’ll never say that to him.

Instead, she watches as he holds the microphone like it’s the face of his lover and croons into its lips love songs of a time long gone. A lot of the teenagers come for him, and she tries not to care when they all ignore her to watch him, captivated and bleary-eyed.

Currently, he’s singing the lyrics to “There Goes My Baby”, and she’s standing behind the register, leaning over the counter and watching him move back and forth. He’s not all that great. She means, he’s a great singer, but a pretty voice isn't all that great. Plenty of people are good singers. It doesn't make him special. Not one bit.

Yet, when he glances in her direction, she feels her heart flutter, even though she knows the chances he’s actually looking at her are slim to none. _Really_. In the year he’s been here, he’s only ever been cruel or teasing.

After an hour of watching teenage girls and boys alike stare at this man, she can’t take it. She walks back into the lounge where Raven is drawing in her notebook. The brunette smiles at her when she enters, putting the book on top of the table. “Do you need Dr. Reyes?”

“I just need a hug.” Clarke laughs before a small frown takes residence on her face. Raven sighs, patting the spot next to her on the couch, and Clarke readily plops down onto the ancient thing. She wraps her arms around Raven and takes a deep breath. After a few moments, she pulls away and bears her teeth for the sake of the mechanic across from her. “Thank you.”

“Anything for my girl.” Raven leans back against the couch, arms outstretched along the back. “Now tell Dr. Freud your penises-I mean problems!” Clarke bursts into laughter and shoves Raven against the side of the couch.

“You’re insufferable.” Clarke grins, pulling her knees underneath her. She’ll take her break now. No one ever orders when Bellamy is performing, anyway.

“But in a good way.” She beams. When Clarke glances at the door as the lyrics to “Heartbreak Hotel” start pouring through, Raven grabs her shoulder. “You know you look like a twelve year old girl with a crush again?”

“I was a great preteen!” Clarke gasps, mock offense apparent in her tone. “And I do not have a crush. That man is almost as insufferable as you.”

She sighs heavily before turning so that the two are both leaning against the sides of the couch, facing each other like they’re sharing secrets at a sleepover. “Don’t lie to me Clarke. You've never been a good actress.”

Clarke groans. “Look, it’s just temporary. I haven’t been with anyone in a while, and my body likes the sight of his.”

“Ok, captain. Whatever you say.” Raven salutes, and Clarke gathers her legs from beneath her so that she can stuff them under Raven’s.

“Anyway, what are you working on?” Clarke grabs the notebook from the table and starts sifting through the pages. They do this a lot. Raven will take Clarke’s sketch book every once in a while, and Clarke will take Raven’s.

“Eh, small stuff. I’m trying to fix this design for a satellite my professor is working on. She says that if I can help her figure out why the design is faulty, I’ll be guaranteed an internship at NASA.”

“But aren't you interested in cars?” Clarke laughs, smiling excitedly because her dad loved to talk about NASA when she was a kid.

“I dabble.” Raven smirks, pulling the notebook out of Clarke’s hands. “But it’s sort of a secret, and your break time ran up two hours ago.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah.” Clarke grumbles, standing up reluctantly and walking to the door with a final “Have fun!” in Raven’s direction.

* * *

On Sunday, Clarke is wiping down the tables at 10:30, counting down the minutes until she can close up and sprint out the door. She’s dancing to “Run Run Rudolph”, gliding around the tables and booths with a rag as her microphone. This weekend has been particularly long, and she still has some homework to finish when she gets back to her apartment, but damn if she can’t appreciate a good song.

She’s sliding toward the booth in the far left corner when Chuck Berry stops singing and she hears the jukebox changing songs. “Misty” starts playing, and Clarke whips around to see none other than Bellamy Blake leaning against the music machine. Damn him. Johnny Mathis is her Achilles’ heel.

“Want a partner, Heartbreaker?” He saunters over to her, and she remains frozen, dripping rag still in hand.

“What?” She mumbles when he stops a few feet in front of her, hands held together behind his back.

“You were dancing, and I was wondering if you wanted a partner.” He shrugs, as if they’re old friends. She studies him carefully as Johnny Mathis croons melodically in the background. He’s not joking. There’s no humor in his eyes or tone. He looks completely serious. _Oh god_. He _is_ serious.

“But why?” She tosses the rag into the bucket a few feet away. When he doesn't say anything, she puts her hands on her hips, tapping her foot away.

“You’re kind of adorable when you’re dancing alone. I thought it’d be fun to join.” She doesn't do anything, and he sighs. “Come on, Clarke, the song’s going to end soon.”

That must explain why she looks down at his outstretched hand and thinks it’s a good idea to take it, wrapping her other around his shoulder. They move slowly in their small space as the song continues to sing in the background. Bellamy isn't looking at her. He keeps his head up, but their bodies are pressed lightly against each other.

Clarke rests her head against his chest when she hears the song start to end. There’s only thirty seconds left in this moment, and she’s going to take what she can, if only for tonight. He glides her away from the booths, toward the stage area where some of the tables had been moved for tonight, when most of the kids like to stand to watch Bellamy.

The song ends, and they continue to shuffle back and forth, his arms now wrapped tightly around her waist and hers around his neck. She hears “Love Me Tender” start, and glances over at the jukebox, where Raven is chuckling quietly to herself with a thumbs up. Clarke thought she’d left hours ago.

Bellamy doesn't notice, or at least pretends not to. He continues to spin her around slowly, and it’s comforting. Being wrapped in his arms. She’d never thought she’d take comfort in Bellamy, but here she is, forgetting about her work, her mother, her father. All that matters is she, Bellamy, and Elvis Presley.

She looks up at Bellamy and finds his eyes watching her warmly. “Hey, Princess.”

“Why?” She squints her eyes, because she dislikes Bellamy, but he can start to change her mind with just two dances.

“What? You think I pull your pigtails for fun?” He smiles softly as his hair falls into his eyes, like it always does. But Clarke finds it more endearing than annoying now.

At that, Clarke decides to be foolish. Because she has shoddy luck with men, so Bellamy can’t possibly be the worst. She’s young, and she’s tired, and he’s here, dancing with her and telling her pretty things. She can regret things in the morning, but for tonight, she stands on her tiptoes and kisses him.

It’s short and sweet, which isn't what she would have expected from Bellamy, but she likes it. Maybe all the 50’s songs have gone to his head and he’ll want to bring flowers to her mother before asking if he can take her daughter out for a pop and a movie. She thinks she wouldn't mind it all the much. He seems like the kind of guy who would take her back to Lover’s Lane afterward, and she’s down for that too.

**Author's Note:**

> I wanted to post something before the end of the year, and I have a lot of stuff that I'm writing that I haven't published. This was the most done one. It's unbeta-ed because I wanted to just get it out before Christmas and because I GOT INTO COLLEGE. So I'm happy.  
> Anyway, thank you for reading! Happy Holidays!
> 
> Addendum: I really like any nicknames Bellamy would have for Clarke so that's why I go all over the place instead of just using Princess.


End file.
